My Stepdaddy Is My Sexy Professor
break up
The club was alive with pounding bass and flashing lights, a perfect escape for anyone wanting to lose themselves in the rhythm. But for me, the music was just noise, and the lights only made the shadows in my mind darker.
I had come here with my friends to try and forget, to drown my sorrows in a sea of strangers, but the recent betrayal was too fresh.
My boyfriend—no, my ex-boyfriend—had been cheating on me. And with Nikita, my supposed best friend. The image of them together, tangled in each other in that hotel room, was seared into my mind.
I tried to keep a mask of indifference, but inside, I was seething. I didn’t want to be here, but I also didn’t want to be alone. My friends, sensing my mood, left me some space, but Sneha, always perceptive, slid into the seat next to me.
Sneha
So, what’s the next plan?
She asked, her tone casual but her eyes probing.
I took a deep gulp of the scotch in my hand, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat.
I replied, my voice flat. I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, watching the ice cubes clink together, trying to keep my anger from bubbling over.
Isabella (FL)
I don’t give a fuck about them
I added, more to convince myself than Sneha. The words tasted bitter in my mouth, and I knew they weren’t entirely true. I did care—too much, maybe. But I couldn’t show that. Not here. Not now.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with his name. Again. My heart twisted in my chest, a cruel reminder of the pain he’d caused.
How many times has he tried to call tonight? I’d lost count. Each missed call felt like a tiny victory, a refusal to give him the satisfaction of a response.
Comments